


Christmas With My King

by KrazyKeke



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Black Character(s), Black Female Character, Black!Reader - Freeform, F/M, Female Character of Color, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9390683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrazyKeke/pseuds/KrazyKeke
Summary: In a bid to repair the the team’s dynamics, Tony organizes a Secret Santa gig and has everyone participate. The reader couldn’t have guessed what would happen at midnight Christmas’ Eve.





	

When what the media dubbed ‘the Avengers Civil War’ happened, it was like you were living a nightmare. Yes, you had known that the team was fractured and that they weren’t quite up to snuff on team dynamics, more than half of them had trust issues (for good reason), but enough to fight over it? Enough to destroy property in an airport battle, like this was the Wild Wild West, without even attempting to really listen or reason with each other? 

No. You hadn’t known that. 

Truthfully, you agreed with the Accords. It was created to prevent things like that from happening and properly punish the superhero from making a repeat occurrence. Were there several things wrong with the initial idea? Yes there were and they could be worked on, changed, over time. So, when Stark asked for your help to stop Cap, you assented. After the airport battle though, you walked away from it all, utterly disgusted and disappointed with both sides. The only ones you couldn’t really throw stones at being Spider Boy and Simba 2.0, one of them clearly had his own agenda while the other seemed too young and in the dark about why he was even there. 

Maria, your former boss from SHIELD and also, not known to many people, best friend, had let you mope for a little bit. Then she had quietly and in a frank tone, taken you to task about the inevitability of the Avengers’ hissy fit. 

Yes, she had actually called it a ‘hissy fit’ with a straight face. 

Her monologue/pep talk ended with her saying seriously, “You aren’t Coulson. It isn’t in your job description to wipe their nose and spank them on their wrist. This isn’t on you.” Much to your embarrassment, you’d actually ended up crying over those words, not realizing how badly until that moment you needed to hear that it wasn’t your fault, you hadn’t failed or gotten so caught up in other responsibilities that you missed the obvious. 

So life went on. When the War ended, the Avengers were officially down to two members, Stark and Rhodes, perhaps Vision once he got a handle on his turmoil. There was something going on with the billionaire and several times, you asked him what had happened in Siberia before getting the run around every time. Then you received an invitation from Rogers to join he and the others at a secret location. 

You didn’t even deign to answer him with a response. 

After a formal letter from the Wakandan king arrived, although it was phrased very elegantly, you treated it like an order from the late Director Fury himself and decided to meet, which proved to be smart. Ross had gotten wind that you were a former SHIELD agent and had wanted your ass displayed for the entire world to see, to be made an example of. 

**~**

For several months, you had been a refugee in Wakanda. You liked the atmosphere, liked the culture and the people. The Dora Milaje were especially interesting and intense. The scattered remains of the Avengers irritated you initially, especially Steve, who thought that you were on board and pro Team Cap, and not wanting to make waves, you had taken to the market and palace gardens, invested time in learning the language. 

That’s how you officially met the King, trying to run away from your problems, to his credit, he hadn’t chastised you and listened with a non-judgmental ear. He was always there when he could be, indulging you with whatever caught your attention at the moment. 

Over time, you learned to forgive the Avengers, learned to forgive yourself and began to harbor a crush on the royal. At first, you thought to hide your feelings, bury and forget them, but once you paid attention, putting your training to use, you realized that your affections weren’t one-sided. T’Challa looked at you with unnameable emotions, whatever they might have been, it made your heart stutter. So, ignoring your inner voice that sounded scarily like Hill, you flirted with him, shocked when he actually flirted in return, this happened more than once and surprisingly, it wasn’t too awkward. Made you become closer, but there wasn’t awkward tension. 

Eventually, the Accords were repealed and Ross was stripped of his position, thrown in prison for his numerous crimes. The Avengers were pardoned for their actions and SHIELD was once again an officially recognized government agency. Hearing this news caused you a part of you that had never fully relaxed, to breathe a sigh of relief even as you experienced a twinge of regret as you met T’Challa’s eyes; he gave you a calm smile, eyes crinkling at the corners and your heart rate returned to normal. The two of you had known whatever you had wouldn’t last but it was good that he didn’t resent you. Preparations were made in short order and with SHIELD also backing the process, getting the team back on American soil took less than forty eight hours. 

**~**

Being back in New York, in the Avengers Compound, you expected there to be tension. Stark had created his own team and there was a calm confidence he exuded as team leader, an unruffled air that ignored how Wanda tried to throw some passive aggressive shade and was immune to Steve’s Disappointed Dad stare. 

It looked good on him. 

The public was fickle on any given day and with the return of America’s national hero and his merry band of teammates, they had to put a lot of work in and those one hundred and seventeen countries that Rogers turned his back on were eager to crack the whip and put him to work. Not that you got away scot-free either, oh no. Director Coulson had you benched and put on desk duty for the foreseeable future. After all the drama in the first half of the year, you didn’t even complain, no matter how awfully boring it all was. 

Sometimes you got to read a newspaper or overheard about the next mess the Avengers got into and thwarted but otherwise, it was out of your hands. Barton would drop by and tease you occasionally, querying about whether you’d turn into a stack of paper first or an old lady, you flipped the asshole off and got back to work in a hurry when May waltzed by, casually flicking his ear, ignoring his bird-like squawking. 

Christmas was just around the corner and you thought that you’d saved up enough to finally buy the pomellato sabbia diamond bracelet. 

‘It’s going to look so great with (your favorite dress).’ Smiling dorkily, you enjoyed looking at the picture you’d snapped on your cellphone, nearly jumping out of your seat when someone cleared their throat. Hastily putting your phone away, you blushed as you saw who it was. “D-Director Coulson, sir. Hi! I mean, hello. I mean–”

He held up a hand. “It’s fine. You’re not in trouble.” Walking over, he extracted a semi-large pile of completed paperwork. “This is a very boring, thankless job and you’ve done it without complaint, admirably. I’ve noticed and respect that.” Unsure where he was going with this, you stayed quiet. “That’s why I decided that you should have a day off. Enjoy yourself. Stark’s throwing the Avengers a party in the Tower and even invited his Highness, T’Challa.” 

Stomach exploding with butterflies, you bit your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. “Oh, really? I was thinking about going home, maybe watch some Netflix and relax.” 

“If that’s what you want.” Coulson nodded, unruffled. “It might be interesting. Barton mentioned a Secret Santa theme has been added.” No longer listening, you nodded absently. You definitely were going to this party. Just for a little glimpse and then you’d leave. That’d work, right? Right.

**~**

Stark had gone all out for this party. Government officials, politicians, celebrities, and both sets of Avengers were there. Hair done up in an elaborate bun and dressed in a shimmery dress, make up done flawlessly, you looked pretty. Or at least, you didn’t stand out. 

“Y/L/N! The lady of the hour. Just when I thought Coulson wouldn’t be able to get you here.” The genius grabbed a chute of champagne from a passing waiter, offering it you. “Might I be so bold as to say you look lovely.” 

“Director Coulson.” you correct out of habit. “And thank you, Mr. Stark for the compliment.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. You do know that you were entered into the Secret Santa raffle and you won?” It was a good thing he waited until you’d swallowed a sip of the alcohol, as it was, you still choked. “Wait, what? But I didn’t enter.”

Stark rolled his eyes. “Well, _duh_ , Agent. I only got the 411 from the Spy Twins like ten minutes ago. Keep up, okay? Hopefully, it’s just Spangles who’s your Secret Santa, but there were some influential people entered in that rally, if you step on someone’s toes…”

He didn’t need to continue. “I see.”

Before Stark could say anything else, that familiar accented voice caught your ear, “Forgive me for interrupting, Tony. However, if it’s convenient, I’d like to speak to Y/N for a moment.” Tony’s eyebrows raised to his hairline and then he grinned roguishly, “Sure thing, Simba. No prob.” He patted the other man roughly on the shoulder and strode away. 

“I…Hi…” Face flushing, you brush invisible wrinkles free of the dress. “I mean, what’s up? Aw crap…”

Chuckling, T’Challa gently had you lower your hands from your face. “Seeing you in the flesh after so many months has me at a loss for words as well, Y/N. Have no fear.” 

“Yet you manage to string together the smoothest line I’ve ever heard without managing to sound corny.” You tease, falling back into the rhythm and comfortableness you had before you’d been forced to leave Wakanda. 

“Ah, but it is not a line if it is the truth.” He smiled calmly and from behind his back, he pulled out a medium sized box. “For you.” T’Challa dipped his head. 

Puzzled, you finish your drink and set it down on a table, reaching out and accepting the wrapped package. With careful fingers, you peel away the wrapping until… “O-Oh…” Your voice trembles with poorly suppressed excitement. “I couldn’t…This is too much. How did…how did you know?” T’Challa had not only gotten you the bracelet, but the necklace and ring. Already you had gotten attached, holding it close to your chest unconsciously. 

“Nonsense.” He shook his head. “I’ve wanted to spoil you from the moment I saw you.” Then he smiled a slow, sensual smile, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, “But you can make it up to me.” Clamping your legs together, your eyes darted around the room, as if afraid someone would have listened and tried to intercede. You tried to find reasons for why this was a bad idea, why you shouldn’t, and when you opened your mouth to list those very reasons, instead, what came out was, “I’d be more than happy to show my appreciation for the gifts, sir.”

His dark brown eyes became darker with lust and he gently linked his arm with yours, leading you from the room and party goers. As soon as the two of you entered his guest room, you put the gift set onto a table and then kissed him. T’Challa wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss. Your hands grasped at his broad shoulders, trying to bring him closer. His tongue ran along your bottom lip, tentatively seeking permission and you let him in, tongue twining with his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up easily and taking a seat on the bed, pulling you onto his lap. You twist so that you’re straddling him and he lets out a low groan at the sudden friction; you moan in response. 

“Y/N, if at any point you want to stop, I will stop.” T’Challa’s voice is a little husky but he sounds serious and you know he means it.

“I don’t want to stop. Please don’t stop, sir. Please.” 

Even though there’s urgency in the exchanged kisses, the way T’Challa undresses you, its like he’s worshiping you. He presses kisses into each revealed bit of skin, your neck and shoulders, stomach, your thighs and calves, back up to your lips, then unclasps your bra, palming your right breast while sucking on your left. 

There’s only way to describe the King, and that is attentive, giving. Definitely giving, with how he finally, finally, eases off your soaked underwear, spreading your legs wide as he crawls in between to kiss, lick and suck at your pussy. Only when you’ve cum twice at least from his tongue and fingers does he give you a little break, then he’s lifting you up, positioning you and pulling your body down until he’s fully sheathed inside. T’Challa holds you tight to him, trembling with the need to move, but he waits until you verbally give permission before he continues. The pace is slow until the two of you find a rhythm and it gradually gets faster and harder. The bed’s headboard crashes into the wall with every hard thrust that T’Challa makes and very soon you can feel yourself about to cum again, and he notices. 

Of course he does. 

He worked a hand between your bodies and used his thumb to swirl around your clit. That did it, you clamped down on him and he slammed into you one final time, stiffening as he came inside of you. 


End file.
